The Fairy Tale or the Monster
by Ashley A
Summary: Beginning with Season Two's Reptile Boy, and veering into my territory from there. Buffy and Angel deepen their relationship. And bad stuff may follow. Complete.
1. Chapter One

Author's note:

This one takes place right after Angel and Buffy's graveyard conversation in season two's Reptile Boy.  All other occurances follow my storyline.

Disclaimer:  Nope, don't own them.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Questions or comments can be sent to sashab@ev1.net

Enjoy!

            Of course it had to start raining.  Always with the rain when I'm feeling the worst.  Never rains when I need it to, like when there's a test or I'm already having a bad hair day.  No, it has to rain, and I mean rain, like buckets, when I'm lost in my head like it's a giant labyrinth.  And not the cool kind like in that movie with David Bowie.

            No, no singing muppets for this girl.

            _This isn't some fairy tale.  When I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after._

_            No.  When you kiss me, I wanna die. _

Damn him.  All I wanted was the possibility of one date.  Just a normal coffee, boy meets girl, sitting in the Espresso Pump kind of evening.  No, maybe even just a walk through the park, as opposed to patrolling in the cemetary.

            Well, maybe not just that.  But it would work as a start. 

            And instead he had to try and talk some reality into me.  Well, lemme break the news to you, Angel, reality has nothing to do with you and me.  We're the stuff of legend, of shooting stars, of lovers dying together rather than living apart.  

            He doesn't get how much he means to me.  I do want to die when he kisses me.  It's like the world shrinks to a pinpoint of light, and then suddenly expands to include nothing but his warm brown eyes.  For someone who says he's such a cold blooded killer, his eyes are almost more human than mine most times.  

            I can shut down too, Angel.  I can be a killer.  Hell, I'm a slayer.  I'm a killer by definition.  Believe me, I don't live in any kind of fairy tale.

            I limp home, through the damn graveyard, mud and wet leaves sucking at my feet.  I stomp angrily down the sidewalk, ready to pouce on anything should it dare approach me.  I should wear a sign on my forehead, 'danger, pissed off slayer'. 

            Although with my attitude present, I don't think I need one.

            I feel something…no, someone following me, and I am not amused.

            I turn around and face the way I had come.

            "Look, I'm cold, I'm wet, but I'm definitely not scared.  Show yourself."

            "I'm glad, because I know from experience you could kick my butt to the ground."

            I sigh, not ready to face him again yet.

            "Look, I need a break from you, okay?  It's a little too…intense right now, you know?" I whirl on my stylish, but muddy boots and continue toward home.  He catches up to me easily, his feet not making a sound on the concrete.  My feet sound like cannons compared to his.

            "Buffy, look.  I…I have to apologize.  I didn't mean to chase you away.  I just…this can't really go anywhere.  You know that.  I know that.  But for some reason we seem to forget that when we're around each other…" His voice breaks, and I stop, and face him.  His eyes are like chips of amber in the streetlight.  I suck in a breath, prepared to rail against him, and against a fate that shoved us together, made me feel for him, and then made him my natural enemy.  A vampire.

            His hands grip my upper arms, and jerk me to him, crushing me against his chest.  His lips descend onto mine before I can say a word, and again I am struck by the realization that I don't care if my body and my slayer instincts are screaming at me to run! kill! vampire!  I couldn't stop touching him if it was life or death.

            He kisses me like he's a drowning man, and I'm his savior.  That thing happens again where it seems there's nothing in the world left but him and me, and the tiny space of our bodies meeting, melting together like we were never apart, ever.  He kisses me like he's angry at me, at himself, and like I did him a disservice somehow.

            His hands move to my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing my chest into his, my nipples hardening immediately from his proximity and the touch of his cool skin through his shirt.

            My pulse is pounding, my body on fire.

            I drag my hands through his hair, pulling his face closer to mine, making some kind of desperate keening sound, as if I can't get close enough to him.

            His hand cups my left breast, and suddenly my mind is in the present again.

            I push away from him finally, panting and sweating, and touch one trembling fingertip to my wet and swollen lips.

            "Wha…" is about all I can get out.  His chest is heaving as well, gulping in unneeded breaths.

            We stand staring at each other in the now almost pulsing rain, and I finally break his gaze and run, knowing if I didn't I'd be all over him in a second, and God help me, I don't know if that is the thing I should do right now.

            He calls after me, but I keep going, boots slapping the road, and finally my house comes into view.  I practically crawl up the tree like Spiderman, and heave myself into my room, dripping onto the carpet and trying to be as quiet as possible.  It would be the oh so perfect ending to my day if I woke up mom and she came in here and found me sneaking in.

            I shed my shoes and jeans at the window seat, not wanting to get the carpet any wetter than it is.

            I pad silently in my panties and blouse to my dresser, and stare at the wild girl in the mirror there.

            Her eyes are bright and wide, but hover over smudges of black; her hair a wet dirty blonde tangle; her face taut over her bones.

            And her lips…

            They tremble uncontrollably, and I touch them with my hand again, feeling his mouth still pressing there, and I shut my eyes against the desire that wells up in me.  Does he love me?  Does he want me?  Or does he just want to play with me, claiming the slayer as his trophy?

            He professes to have the same feelings as I do, but how twisted is our relationship?  A vampire slayer in love with a vampire?  How bizarre.  And how totally righteous, as my friend Chris back at Hemery would have said.

            I've never been in love.  I don't know what it feels like.  But since meeting Angel, I can say I have an inkling.

            I can literally almost feel when he's near.  I feel like I can't breathe if I'm not touching him.  And maybe, the next time he kisses me, I will die.  I'll die anyway if he's jerking me around.  Just to look noble, get in close to the slayer, help her out, do some good, make yourself atone.  That's not it, is it?  Oh, my God, what if that's the reason he's been around?

            What if that's the reason he sought me out in the first place?

            I sink to the floor in front of my dresser, my head lowered, my hair hanging in sodden strings around me like a curtain.

            Hot tears form in my eyes, hurt descending like a wave, followed quickly by anger and resentment.

            I ram my fist into the wooden drawer in front of me, and it crunches with a meaty snap.

            I snap out of my reverie, immediately alert to any sounds coming from my mom's room.

            Nada.  Good.

            I stand listlessly, and strip off the rest of my rain soaked clothes.  Pulling open the drawer I had just broken, I retrieve my pj bottoms and tank and shrug them on, all anger and restlessness drained out of me suddenly like it had never been there.

            I slip under the covers, and grab a tight hold of Mr.Gordo, my stuffed pig. 

            "You understand me, don't you, Mr. Gordo?" I whisper to him, sniffling miserably and clutching him tightly to my chest. 

            If Angel doesn't love me, I don't know what I'll do.

            But I do know it will make me into somebody I won't like.

            I decide that I have to take matters into my own hands.  

            This isn't a fairy tale.  He's damn right.  And I'm gonna show him just how much it's not.

            But not now.  Not while the rain is still pounding down, and not while my brain is again feeling like that maze or puzzle box that you just can't figure out.

            I drift to sleep, thoughts of him swirling in my head, and images of him filling my dreams.

            Am I in love?  Am I in denial?  All I know is what I feel when he's near.  And what I feel when he's not.

            As much as I know it's a pipe dream, I do want the fairy tale, no matter what he says, and no matter what my logic center tells me. But if it ends up being the monster story instead, I'll take it too, if it means I can have him.

            Mr. Gordo watches over me in silence as I slumber, dreaming of castles and dragons, and ultra strong princesses and pale, beautiful knights.

            The rain continues to fall outside, a mute witness to my agitated sleep, it's gentle patter no balm to my burn.

            Maybe tomorrow it'll be sunny. 

TBC.


	2. Chapter Two

Author's note:

If you recognize lines, they are taken directly from episodes of BTVS.  No copyright infringement is ever intended.

This is part two of my new one, and let me know if you think I should continue.  

I have jacked with the events during and following Reptile Boy, so go with it.

Please feed me.

Angel's POV.

Rating:  PG-13

Enjoy.

            _There's blood on it.  I can…smell it._

            _When I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after._

She had run pell mell through the cemetary, distancing herself from me.  From any idea of normalcy between us.  Away from promise, away from reality.

            Reality.  God!  How can I feel this way about someone else when I can't feel anything for myself?  Anything except loathing and denial.

            She's the bright ray in my dark room.  The only thing that makes me want to keep going every night, and the only thing that keeps me from seeing my last sunrise every morning.

            Truth be told, when Whistler approached me in New York, and brought me here, I hadn't expect to be moved.  I had expected to be shown something, but not what I actually saw.

            What I saw I fell in love with the second I layed eyes on it.

            One little human, one little clueless human girl at that, denying her desires to be a normal teenager to save innocents who will never know her name.

            And just seeing that, I knew that I had to try, too.

            When I kissed her finally, in her room after that embarrassing misunderstanding about her diary, which by the way endeared her to me even more, I couldn't control myself, and my true nature reared it's ugly head.

            She had screamed at me then, and I had vaulted through her window, ashamed and aroused at the same time.

            She had kissed me back.

            The first woman since Darla to act like it had any kind of meaning.

            When she killed the master, and then disappeared for the summer, I had thought our connection would be lost.  I spent the next two months roaming up and down the coast of California, trying not to stalk her in L.A., and trying to kick some demon ass on my free time.  The second goal having been met, I had almost gotten to the point of deciding not to return to Sunnydale, when I had heard the whisper of a rumor about the Master.  And how some idiotic cult was trying to raise him.

            So I doggedly went back to Sunnydale, feeling responsible, and secretly rejoicing in my heart that I had an excuse to see her again.

            And oh, how she had hurt me.

            As it turned out of course, she had had a valid reason for feeling the way she did.  Buffy never has been one to discuss her feelings readily.  Another thing we have in common.

            And here we are, a few weeks later, and we're still not sure where we stand.

            I watch her run away, and curse myself for saying what I had.  But one of us has to admit it.  We have so many obstacles to hurdle.  A vampire in love with a vampire slayer?  Ludicrous.  But there's nothing to be done for it.

            And her comments about wanting to have coffee.  Does she think we can actually go on a date?  I'm two lifetimes older than she is.  What the hell does a normal date consist of?  I wouldn't even know where to start.

            I pace the cemetary, and decide the hell with caution.  I can still smell her on my hands.  I can't leave it like this.

            "I'm cold, I'm wet, but I'm definitely not scared.  Show yourself."

            "I'm glad, because I know from experience you could kick my butt to the ground."

            She blinks slowly at me, and frowns.  I shift back and forth uneasily, and await her answer.  Maybe trying to be funny wasn't the right way to go about this.

            She finally tells me things are a little too intense for her right now, and she whirls around, heading back toward her home.

            No.  This is not going to end like this.

            I trail after her quickly, and she stops again.  I fumble out an apology, and meet her eyes.  They stop my rambling quckly.  They sparkle in the streetlight, although with anger or desire I can't tell.  I decide to find out.

            I grab her upper arms, and pull her to me.  She seems confused, but allows it.  I lower my lips to hers, and kiss her.

            She freezes, and as I kiss her, I can feel all the confusion and bitterness at my situation fall away.  Her arms finally loosen, and slip around my neck, and I wrap my own around her back.  I deepen the kiss.  Can't help it.  Her lips part and I gently probe inside her mouth with my tounge, the cool temperature of my mouth heated up from the hot moisture of hers.  Even with my eyes closed, stars spark in my vision, and my skin breaks out in goose bumps.  

            She makes a noise then, a desperate mewling sound, and I drag her closer, our bodies touching from head to feet.  I feel her nipples tighten against my chest, and a growl sounds unbidden in my throat. I reflexively bring my hand around to her breast, cupping it.  It feels like the natural thing to do, but I'm sorry I did it in the next second.

            She breaks away from me, panting, and I notice I'm doing the same, unnecessarily.  I can taste her, feel her pulse, smell her skin.  She's a drug.

            My body obviously feels the same way, and I hastily fasten my leather duster in front of me.  

            I start to speak, to put out my hand, and she spins then, running full tilt away from me again.

            Away, always away.  This time I don't follow, though I do manage to say hoarsely, "Buffy-"

            Her blonde head disappears from view, and I stare after her dejectedly.  I ruined it.  I knew I would.  Years of separation and disconnection have destroyed my ability to function in the human world.

            Why would she love me?  I'm her natural enemy.  Having a soul doesn't detract from the things I've done.

            I too turn on my heel, and procede back toward my own home.  

            I've got to figure out what to do to rectify this.  

*********************

            I stare at Willow like she's grown two heads.

            "She went to a frat party?  Did she have a…a..date?" I practically whisper, and Willow whips back at me.

            "What did you expect, Angel?  She can't be expected to wait around for you.  I mean, you're gonna live forever and you don't have time for a cup of coffee?"

            I stare at the ground, ashamed and amazed the little red head would speak to me like that.  Apparently she's surprised too, because she colors almost the same tint as her hair, then replies miserably.

            "…I don't feel better, and now we have to help Buffy."

*********************

            We stare at each other across the now monster free basement, and finally she turns to Giles, and he helps her up the stairs.

            I follow silently, my face contorting back to it's human visage.

            Who knew; a bunch of frat boys worshipping a snake demon.  I'm not surprised actually, too much success in one place generally spells monsters.

            We exit the frat house, Buffy walking with Giles, and me helping the limping and moaning Cordelia.  She clings to my arm, and I try slightly to pull away, but she's got a killer grip, and I don't want her to fall if I let go.  So I follow Buffy and Giles to Cordy's car, where Giles lets Buffy and Cordy get in the back.

            He faces me, and tells me gently, "I'll take them home."  I nod in agreement.  Probably in my current state of agitation a very good idea.

            I watch as they pull away.  Buffy's not looking back.

            The next night I sit at the edge of the water at Sunnydale Beach club.  It's  2 am, and I have no danger of anyone finding me here.

            So I am surprised when she manages to.

            "Hey," she says, and toes the ground.  Sand arcs around her feet, and I notice they have new polish on them.  I can smell it.

            God, she's just a girl.  And I'm a 245 year old lecher that's totally, head over heels in love with her.  

            And a monster.

            Not the mysterious, black clad champion I think she sees me as.

            She sits carefully next to me on the sand, and I notice her looking at my feet.

            "What?" I ask quietly.

            She snickers lightly.  "I've just never seen your feet before.  They're really pale."

            "Didn't want to get my shoes wet," I say, indicating them, sitting next to me with the socks stuffed in their tops.

            We face the ocean, neither of us wanting to say anything.

            "Buffy," I start at the same time she says, "Angel."

            I put out my hand, and defer to her.

            "You can't keep pushing me away.  You've saved me countless times already, be it through warnings or just fighting or whatever.  Give me some credit, okay?  I'm smart enough to make up my own mind about what I want," she spits out, then sighs, turning her face toward mine.  "I don't know what it is about you.  You infuriate me, and yet I feel like I've known you my whole life.  And when I'm near you…it's like the lights dim everywhere else," she concludes simply, and a faint blush colors her cheeks.  It makes her glow like a goddess.

            "I-" she raises her hand, and I shut my mouth.

            "When I saw you in the graveyard the other night, I was so excited I could barely stand it.  I think about you constantly.  I dream about you.  I spend the daylight hours wishing it was night so I could see you right then.  Do you think I care what or who you are? Or how old you are?  You feel right.  You feel more than right, you feel perfect.  And when you kiss me…I do wanna die.  But only because I'm afraid you might stop."

            I turn my head the other way so she doesn't see the bald emotion on my face.

            I don't deserve her.  I don't.  But how can I be away from her now?  Not after that speech.  And God help me, I do love her.  She's my everything.  And she's right about something.  I don't care what or who I am either.  Or how old I am.  Because when I'm with her, all I am is what she needs me to be, and I'm as young as a schoolboy again, because I feel like a trembling child in her presence. 

            "Angel?" she inquires softly, a hint of sorrow in her voice.  "Did you hear what I said?"

            I move like lightning, _sometimes I do love my preternatural speed, _and she gasps as I wrap myself around her.

            I press my forehead to hers, and meet her gaze solidly.  She smiles a little smile, and I quirk one back at her.

            And then I kiss her.

            And all those stupid sayings about bursting stars, and birds singing, and choirs are true.  When you're with your one, they're true.  Times a thousand.

            She relaxes quickly this time, and tilts her head to get closer to mine.  I nibble her lips slowly, and she reciprocates, teasing me back.  

            Just when we get into a rhythm, I move to her neck, and am rewarded with a deep inhalation of breath.  I smile into her throat, and suckle a line up and down the collum, ending up at her pulse.  I place a little kiss there, and pull away just as she tries to push my face closer to her.

            She pouts at me, and I smile again.

            "We have lots of time, Buffy.  Don't rush it.  I'm not going anywhere."

            She raises my hand to her lips, and places them there, where my pulse would be if I had one.

            She crawls into my lap, and I hold her as the warm ocean breeze plays over us, and we watch the crawl of the waves at the shore.

            And neither of us is thinking about tomorrow, or the next day.  She's my fairy tale girl, and I'm her knight.

            At least while the sun is down. 

TBC. 


	3. Chapter Three

            I walk through the cemetary, leaves blowing against my feet, my smoothly polished stake in my right hand.  I twirl it like it's a baton, and I throw into the air for good measure, catching it easily.  No monsters, hardly any vamps, and a few rats are about all I've seen tonight.  No action equals a bored slayer, who's headed home for a few rounds with European History 101.  Ugh.

            _I could ask Angel, he was there then after all._

            That thought sobers me up. 

            After that scene on the beach, I had thought we'd be peachy keen, seeing each other a lot, even just out for coffee, or a walk, or a make out session or seven.  Wrong-o.

            I haven't seen hide nor gorgeous hair of him in a week.  What the hell?  And mom's been busting my butt all week, trying to figure out who this mystery guy is I won't talk about.

            Oh yeah, can you see that?  "Well, mom, this is Angel, he's a vampire, oh and by the way I'm a vampire slayer.  But he's got his soul, so that's okay."

            Uh huh.  And maybe not.

            I turn out of Restfield onto Silber, and head west towards Revello drive and my house.  And the waiting homework.

            It's not like I have much else to do.  Except I have been doing other things.  Like going to frat parties with Cordy.  Oh man, I will so never do that again.  

            Especially after seeing the hurt look on Angel's face.  Although he really did kind of deserve it.

            Willow told me guiltily that she had ripped into him that night, and was instantly contrite.  Of course I told her it's no big, but honestly when I think about it, it makes me feel good that my friends would stand up for me.  It makes me love them the more.

            Hopefully I can actually stay up for my study session.  I've been having these really weird dreams, like the prophecy ones I had about the Master.  These ones are wicked weird, not making any kind of sense at all.  They look like something out of King Arthur.  I'm a princess of course, and Angel is there too, a stately pale knight dressed head to toe in black armor.

            He seems to be there to protect me from something, but when I turn to tell him I can take care of myself, he procedes to vamp face out on me, and before I can do anything he lunges for me.  

            I wake up sweating each time at this point.

            I shiver a little as I reach the corner of Revello and Silber.  I know it's not really a prophecy dream; it's not like Angel and I are suddenly going to be transported to Camelot, but I know these dreams always represent something in real life.  I just can't figure this one out yet.

            Mom has left the porch light on, and as it's 11pm, I expect her to be in bed.  So I shimmy up the tree in the front yard and drop silently into my room, breathing quietly and listening for any noise.

            I peek my head out of my door, and listen.  Snoring.  Perfect.  

            "Angel!" I yell, and jerk awake in my bed, the covers a tangled mess, my hair in my face, my pj's in dissaray.

            "Buffy?" comes the unexpected answer, and I jump about a mile.

            "Angel?  Is that you?"

            He steps through the window, and onto the love seat next to it.

            "Are you alright?  I heard you call my name," he asks, and I nod, pushing back sticky hair from my forehead.

            "Yeah…I think so.  I've been having these dreams…wait, how did you hear me?  Were you outside this whole time?"

            He shrugs sheepishly.  "I followed you from Restfield.  I just wanted to make sure you got home alright."

            "Why didn't you say something?  We could've walked together.  I haven't seen you in a while…" I trail off, my voice getting quiet.  _Maybe that's because he didn't want to see you._

He sits on the love seat, and faces me.  "I know.  I'm sorry about that.  I just…I needed to think some things out.  About you, and about us.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going."

I face him as well, and try to straighten the covers so they're around me at least a little bit.  Don't want to come off as a wanton slut.

"You wanted to think about…us?  I didn't know there was an us," I say, getting a little mad here.  Well, maybe just a little embarrassed.  _Oh, God is there an us?_   

He cocks his head to one side, and looks at me quizzicly.  "Well, I thought, I mean, after the beach…is there not an us?"

I sigh, not wanting to get into this conversation.  Especially after not getting my sleep, due to those crazy dreams.

"Buffy, you know how I feel about you," he says, and his eyes meet mine.  He leans forward from the waist, his forearms resting on his thighs.

"Do I?  I don't know, Angel.  I mean, you tell me you feel for me, you kiss me, and then you leave for a week with no word.  How do you think that makes me feel?  Not too special, really.  Didn't you tell me you weren't going anywhere?"  I tell him, and am shocked at how bitchy I sound.  What's wrong with me?

He drops his head, so he's not looking at me.

"I know.  And I meant it all.  You're like a drug, Buffy," he tells me, jerking his head back in my direction, and I can see that he's angry, or confused, or both.  I know how he feels.

"You're like a narcotic I can't fight.  I can feel you when you're not around, feel you in my blood, and if I don't see you I'm like a junkie that can't get his next fix.  You're in my soul, Buffy, and damn it, I don't know what to do about it.  Or if I even should do anything about it."

I stare at him, thunderstruck.  No one has ever said anything like that to me.  Granted, he compared me to drugs, but I get the idea.  Boy, do I get it.

"This is doomed.  We're doomed.  But I want so badly for there to be an us, and God, what if we don't try?  Would that be worse than a doomed relationship?  I honestly don't think so.  I'd go to hell and back for the chance to walk in your footprints."

He's on his knees now, in front of me, and I've moved to the edge of the bed, and my hand is cupping his cheek without me even realizing it.

"Angel…don't.  Please, just don't," I tell him, and I'm shaking, though not with cold.  My dreams are a dim memory now, something not important to be discussed at a later time.  With Giles, maybe.  All that matters right now is that this beautiful, dangerous man on his knees in my bedroom just told me he'd go to hell for me.  

How do you answer that?

The only way you know how.

I lean forward and place my other hand on his left cheek, and pull his face to mine.  I barely touch his lips with mine, and he shudders, placing his hands on my shoulders.

Doom and destiny and vampires and death and the wrongness of our relationship are wiped out by one touch of his mouth on mine.  His smell surrounds me, like leather and outdoors and spice, and he raises up on his knees, removing my hands from his face, and wraps them around his torso.  I slide to the last inch of the mattress, and twine a leg around one of his.

He kisses me hesitantly at first, somewhat unsure of the ground he's on.  I increase the pressure, to let him know that I'm okay with this.  I'm more than okay.  I'm great.  I do not care what anyone says.  They can all go to hell themselves.  Angel and I are meant to be.  We fit. Screw the universe, screw everything.  No one has ever made me feel like he does.  

I don't know what love is really, but I now have more than an inkling.  I have a truckload.

My dream nags at me again, but I push it away, and concentrate on the feel of Angel in my arms, his lips on mine, his arms around my waist.

What's so important about some Cinderella dream anyway?  Or Camelot.  Or whatever it was.

I'll tell him later.

The wind has risen, and beats at the frame of my window, but neither of us notice it.

Tbc. 


	4. Chapter Four

Fairy Tale Chapter Four.

Same disclaimers as stated previously.

Angel's POV.

                        I'm walking on a deserted cliffside.  Wind howls through the trees, and they bend almost to the ground.  My short hair isn't really affected, but my clothing whips around me, and I almost trip over my own coat.  I'm looking for something.  Not sure what, but I know it's around here somewhere.  She needs me.  I need to find her.  But although I can feel her presence in this place, it illudes me.  

            A great scream fills the air, and I turn quickly in a 180 degree arc, and see a large castle behind me, and a figure on the battlements, her hair almost standing on end from the wind.

            An immense black cloud is hanging behind her, and I race toward the castle, knowing that only ill can come of it.

            She waves at me frantically, and I see her arms are bound to the stone wall with chains.

            "Buffy!"  I yell, and sprint faster.

            As I near the wall, it begins to collapse in on itself, and a huge fount of what can only be blood pours out of the black cloud, drenching her in it.  She struggles to free herself from her bonds, but isn't managing it very well, due to being slick and covered in viscous material.

            "Hang on, I'm almost there!" I yell again, and as I reach for handholds in the rapidly decomposing wall, I hear her plaintative cry, and look up.

            "Angel, the sun!"

            I can only throw my arms up before it's too late, and the last thing I hear is her scream.

            "Nooooooooooo-"

            I jerk awake, gasping and writhing in my spartan bed, sweat beaded all over my chest and face.

            I shudder involuntarily, and lurch out from under the covers, still in the grips of the dream.

            I still can smell her fear, hear her shriek my name as the sun takes me.

            I enter the bathroom, and turn on the taps as hot as they'll go.

            Splashing my face, I wince at the heat, but it doesn't burn.

            The phone chooses to ring at that moment.

            I cock my head, still stuck in the dreamy drowsy sleep world, and listen.

            No, that is the phone.  It's 5 in the morning.  Who would be calling…

            "Hello?"  I ask and I know it's her.

            "Angel?" she asks tentatively, and I can tell she's been crying.

            "Buffy, what is it?  Who's hurt?" I say, and she sniffles a little, and answers.  "N-no one.  I had this dream…well I've actually been having a lot of dreams lately, and they're totally creeping me out.  You were in this one, and you we trying to get to me, and I was on this wall, and there was a lot of blood, and then the sun was suddenly there, and then you were…gone," she finishes the last word in a whisper, and I am beyond weirded out.

            "Buffy, have you told anyone else about this?"

            "No.  Just you.  I meant to tell you earlier, but with the wiggyness lately, and the stupid snake demon, and the beach, and then last night, well, I wasn't sure when a good time was.  I didn't want to scare you away.  It seems to be going kinda- nicely."

            I white knuckle the receiver, but stop when it makes an ominous cracking sound.

            "Buffy, I had the same dream.  Tonight.  I just woke up as a matter of fact."

            Silence.  Speaking of wigging…

            "I've gotta tell Giles.  This has gotta mean something."

            "I don't know, Buffy.  He might not think you should be seeing so much of me.  Maybe we're just, I don't know, in synch tonight or something?" I say, not wanting her watcher to think of a reason for me to stay away from her.  Not when we've just gotten closer.

            But maybe she should.  How many times have a vampire and a vampire slayer shared the same dream?  And what the hell could it mean?

            "Angel…he is of the research mind.  This could mean something important.  And me being the slayer, I do have the prophecy dreams.  I don't want to ignore this.  I don't want what happened with the master to happen again.  In any sort of capacity," she says, and I do understand.

            I just want her to myself.

            I sigh.  "Yeah, I think you're right.  But let me meet you there later tonight.  I can fill in my side of the dream."

            "Okay.  See you then, I guess."

            She sounds tentative, as if afraid to hang up the phone.

            "Buffy?" I query softly.  "You okay?"

            "I…I think so.  You're just…you're important to me, Angel.  I don't want to blow this.  I don't want anything to happen to you.  If you and I are sharing dreams…that's gotta mean major badness or major mojo cooking from somewhere.  And I don't mean the good kind of cooking, like brownies or lasagne."

            I smile to myself, falling a little deeper.  Does she know what she makes me feel?

            "I'll be there.  Okay?  No worries today.  I promise it will work out."

            "…okay.  Just be there.  We'll be waiting."

            We are quiet then, just listening to each other's presence on the phone line, as if it was a living connection that tied us together.  I can literally almost see her sitting on her bed in the dark, frown lines in between her eyes, twirling her hair around her finger nervously.  

            "I'll see you tonight," I say, and she replies.  "I…please be careful, Angel.  Okay?"

            "I will.  I promise."

            "Alright.  Bye."  And she's gone with a click.

            But I can still see her sitting there, and I can faintly still smell her, feel her hands on my face, her lips on mine, her hair falling around us like a curtain.  I put the receiver back on the cradle, and sink back onto my bed, staring at the curtains, and sensing the approaching dawn.

            Only 12 hours, and I can see her again.

            Only 12 hours, and we can figure this out.

            My head is buzzing, and I close my eyes, if only for a short rest.  The dream wore me out more than I had expected.

            I drift off to visions of Buffy as she had been last night, cradled in my arms, kissing me as passionately as I had been kissing her.

            Her heart blazing before me, beating for the both of us.

            12 hours.

            I can wait.

TBC. 


	5. Chapter Five

Authors note:

Buffy's POV.

A few lines in this chapter are taken directly from episodes of BTVS.  No copyright infringement is intended.

            The library is so boring right now.  I can't help it.  All I can think of is him.  I can't concentrate on the task at hand, which is helping Willow with the research thing.  The net is not my strongest point.

            Halloween is fast approaching, and I want to do something special.  It's the one night in the year when the slayer actually has any time off.  According to Giles, the uberbaddies think it's "undignified" to stoop to cliché level and attack anyone on that night.  Fine by me.  I don't get too many chances to take advantage of no chaos.

            I sigh, sink my chin into my hand, and close my eyes.  Wills doesn't need my help anyway.  I'd only slow her down.

            "Buffy?  You okay?"

            Her voice surprises me, and I open my eyes guiltily, answering her quickly.  "What? Yes!  I don't know Willow, what does a million gigabytes have to do with monsters?"

            Willow just shakes her head.  "Buffy, you weren't listening."  I try to dissuade her.  "No, no, I was.  I was just…imagining what a million gigabytes look like.  It's kind of hard to do with your eyes open, you know?"

            "Uh huh.  And would these million gigabytes be a tall and darkly handsome someone with a dental challenge?"

            I drop my head to my arms, and moan.  "Oh, Wills, I'm sorry.  I can't stop.  It's like he's everywhere even when he's not around.  I can almost feel him.  It's creepy, in a I'm not sure I really care cause you're so hot kinda way."

            Willow laughs.  "It's okay, Buffy.  It's not like you're a member of the net squad anyway.  I can find a list of vampire activity on past Halloween's on my own, thanks."

            I turn my head toward her, still resting on my forearms.  "I really don't know why Giles has you doing this.  It's history, you know.  The freaks don't come out at night on Halloween.  It's a known fact.  The one night the slayer actually gets some time off, and gets to have some normal girly like fun.  Like what costume I should wear."

            "Oooh, have you picked out something?  Something sexy for Angel to go all ga ga over?"

            "Willow!"  I say, shocked that she's said something so forward.  She blushes, then shrugs.  "Well, have you?"

            "I'm not sure yet.  I mean, I'm already kind of a superhero in real life anyway, so what kind of costume is left?  A doctor?  A cat?  A piece of fruit?"  I frown in frustration.  I had so hoped that Angel would have said something about Halloween, about us doing something besides making out in the cemetary or on my windowsill.  Not that I'm complaining about it.

            And speaking of, where is he?  It's been dark for about thirty minutes now, and he's not here yet.  And I am so not telling Giles about my weird princess dream without Angel here to back me up.

            "Buffy, Willow, any luck?"  The aforementioned watcher enters the room, carrying with him his ever present cup of tea.

            "Nada, Giles, sorry.  I'm not sure why you're even having us do this anyway; you know the vamps are traditionally quiet on Halloween."

            He eyes me with some chagrin.  "I want to be prepared for any situation, Buffy.  You should be as well."

            He returns to his office, mumbling something about slayers and their lack of 'buckling down' interest.  I don't think I've ever heard him say 'buckling down' before.  California must be rubbing off on him.

            "What are you doing?"

            Willow and I yelp, she grabbing her laptop, and me whirling to face the door, stake in hand.

            "Don't.  Do.  That.  Again.  Sheesh!  How did you sneak up on us, anyway?"

            "I wasn't trying to.  You both looked busy with your computer, and I didn't want to interrupt…sorry if I scared you."

            I walk to him, and and stop a millimeter from his chest.  "It's okay, Angel.  I was wondering if you were gonna show."

            He smiles that lopsided smile that makes my stomach do that weird quiver thing, and replies.  

            "Sorry.  Ran into some vamp action on the way over.  It's taken care of."

            I notice he has some dust on his shoulder, and I laugh as I pick a leaf out of his hair.  "You're picking up my bad grooming habits."

            "You look fine, Buffy," he tells me, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone that's actually that sincere before.  I smile at him, and shyly stand on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cool lips.  His eyes shut, and he smiles against my mouth, and I glow.  

            Someone clears their throat, and I awkwardly back away from Angel, and face Giles.

            "Angel.  How are you?" he asks politely, and I'm pleased he's being nice.  I know it wiggs him something fierce that I am dating a vampire.  Hell, it wiggs me too.  But when I see Angel's face, the wiggs go away, and the happies come instead.  So that's alright by me.

            "I'm good.  Thank you for asking," Angel says, and starts to say something else.  He looks at me, raising his eyebrows.  I shake my head slightly, and Angel again faces Giles, saying, "Giles, Buffy has something she needs to tell you."

            "Oh?" he says, tilting his head downward, glasses sliding to the end of his nose.  "…and that would be?"

            Eeeeek.  He looks like every angry teacher I've ever had.  I open my mouth, and nothing comes out but a squeak.  I swallow, and try again.

            "Maybe we should sit down," I say, and take Angel's hand and lead him over to the table.  Willow has shut her laptop, all pretense of working now abandoned.

            Giles follows us, his hackles obviously up.  "Buffy, what's going on?  Has something happened?  Are you ill?"

            "No,no Giles.  Nothing like that.  I just…well, I've been having these dreams…"

            "And you say you've had the same dream now?  Only the once?"  he asks again, cleaning his glasses for the umpteenth time.  I'm surprised the lenses haven't collapsed into sand particles by now.

            "Yes, Giles, only the once.  But don't you think that's kind of oogy anyway?"

            "Oogy?" he says, completely perplexed.

            "Yeah.  Creepy.  As in weird.  As in, what the hell.  As in, slayers and vampires should not be sharing the same dream.  Well, except for that one time…in LA…with Lothos…" I trail off, not wanting to relive that part of my past.  Thinking about that stuff always got me to thinking about my first Watcher, Merrick, and how I lost him.  

            Not gonna go there right now.

            "Lothos?" Angel asks, frowning now.  "Wasn't he a Master Vampire-"

            "Yes, and we can all rest easy now cause he's dead," I interject, and wave at Giles.  "So, Watcher man, what d'you think?  What does it mean?  Should we be be preparing for an apocalypse?  Rain of toads?  Or rain of shoes?  Ooh, that would be cool," I say, and Angel elbows me.  I stifle a giggle.

            "I'm not sure, Buffy.  I don't believe I've ever read of anything like this at all before.  Granted, not many slayers had vampires as friends.  I'll have to do some research on the subject of shared dreams…and this did feel like a prophecy dream to you?"

            "Just like the ones with the Master," I say quietly, and Angel touches my hand, reassuring.

            "And all you remember is a large black cloud, and a rain of what appeared to be blood?"

            "Don't forget the part where Angel burst into flame," I say suddenly, most definitely not wanting Giles to forget that.  That part is the one that bothers me the most.

            "Don't worry about that, Buffy," Angel says, "…it was more of a vortex than a cloud, at least that's the way it looked to me.  And it was assuredly blood."

            Giles squints his eyes at Angel.  "How can you be sure?  It could have been almost anything, being a dreamscape…"

            "I could smell it."

            "Ah," Giles says, and I can tell he's a little grossed out.  To tell the truth, I am kinda too.

            "Well, I will contact the council, and make sure nothing like this has never occurred before that we are aware of.  I'll ring you later tonight when I've heard, Buffy."

            I stand, stretching, thankful he's letting us off the research hook for one night.

            "Sounds like a plan, G man," I say, and I can see him cringe slightly when I call him by Xander's favorite nickname for him.

            "Please, Buffy, for the love of my sanity, do not call me that."

            I snicker behind my hand, turning it into a cough when Giles frowns at me.  "Yes, Sir."

            I turn toward the exit.  "Wanna get in a few good hours of patrol?"  I ask Angel, and he nods.  "Lead on."

            "Willow, call me?"  I say, my hand to my ear, in the universal gesture for telephone, as I walk toward the door backward, Angel at my side.

            "I will," she says, and mouths, "Costume!"

            I blush and wave my hand at her, and follow Angel out of the swinging library doors.

            "Ah," I sigh as I shimmy up the tall Oak to my window, "Home sweet tree."

            I slide silently inside the room, Angel having climbed up the tree behind me.  Although it does piss me off slightly he can do it faster and quieter than I can.  Stupid vampire preternatural skills.

            "That was a productive evening," he states, sitting on the edge of the windowsill, staring out at the street, still watching for bad guys.  He's hypervigilant, that one.

            Good thing one of us is right now; I'm about feeling like the walking dead.  No pun intended.

            I slump back onto my bed, and pull off my new black boots, so cute yet oh so blistery when they're new.

            "I've about had it, Angel.  I'm gonna have to call it a night.  I guess I can do my homework at school tomorrow, right?  That means I only have to skip…lessee…three classes," I moan, and cradle my head in my hands.  

            He laughs softly.  "You'll do okay."

            "Maybe…if okay means passing a third of my classes versus none."

            "Buffy," he says, getting up and coming over to the bed to sit next to me, "You have a lot going on right now.  Things will work out, I promise.  And besides, if you need help with your homework, don't forget you have a living history book to rely on."

            I crack a smile.  Holy cow, he made a joke.

            "Wow, call Guinness.  The world's most serious vampire just made a funny," I quip, and he smiles a little, shrugging his shoulders.

            "I'm a funny guy."

            I snort with laughter, and then he does too.  

            "Oh, boy.  Thanks, I needed that," I tell him, wiping my eyes.  He shakes his head, still chuckling softly.

            "Don't mention it.  Seriously," he says, and there's the flash of his white teeth against the darkness of the room again.

            I just shake my head as well, and meet his eyes.

            Suddenly, all humor and sillyness is gone from my mind.

            He's thisclose, and before I know it, I'm leaning toward him, my hand coming up to cup his cheek.

            He places his own hand over mine, the coolness penetrating the overheatedness of my post slayage skin.

            "Angel, I…"

            "Shhhhhh," he says, and pulls me to him.

            "But the dreams…" I try again, and he puts a finger to my mouth, silencing me.

            "Later," he whispers, and as his lips touch mine, I forget about the next question I had lined up.

            A good half hour and many soft words and kisses later, I wave at him from my window as he heads down the street, dawn still a few hours away.

            I am struck suddenly by the eerie sameness of this position; how I had seen him in my dream from this very situation, atop a high place, and him below me, looking up.

            Of course now there's a lot less screaming, and a lot less blood falling from the sky.

            I shudder slightly, and turn back to my room.  Really time to hit the hay.

            I change into my pjs, and slide under the covers, my lips still tingling from his touch, and my hair still askew from his fingers.

            I don't care how odd Giles, or the Council, or anyone thinks it is that I am involved with a vampire.

            He's the one freaky thing in my freaky life that makes any kind of sense right now.

            I'll have to be sure and tell him that.

            I slip into sleepy oblivion, and right before I go completely under, I hear his voice in my head.

            _I'd go to hell and back for a chance to walk in your footprints._

TBC. 


	6. Chapter Six

Some plot points are taken from BTVS season two episode "Halloween."  No copyright infringement was intended.

Thanks to Kristi for the great reviews.

Buffy's POV.

            Ah, Halloween.  The hellmouth's answer to a day off.  

            Willow and I have finally picked out costumes, but both of us have kept them secret from one another, promising that we well get ready together at my house.

            Xander and Angel will be meeting us here later, and then we'll head to the Bronze for some party fun. 

            As I slide my dress on over my head, I think about that dream again.  The dream actually kind of inspired my current wardrobe. 

            I'm going as a princess, actually.

            I thought it might make a nice change from all the tomboyish slayer wear that I normally dress in.  I don't get much of a chance to dress up anymore; it's kind of hard to patrol in skirts and high heels.  Although I do make an effort.

            The dress is violet, with white lace accents.  Mom curled my hair into what she called an "up do" before she left for her own party.  Hmmm.  Come to think about it, it's a little weird that mom should have a party to go to.  When has she had time to make friends here?  And are there men friends?

            …anyway, not to worry.  She's gone for the night, and the four of us can have an awesome Bronzey time without worrying about vamp tactics for one night.

            "Buffy, you ready?" Willow calls out from behind the dressing screen I have in my room.  

            "Almost," I reply, "Just let me add the final thing."

            I slide on the see through high heels I found at a yard sale, no less, and twirl in the mirror.  Perfect.  Cinderella at your service.

            My hair looks great, put up in ringlets on top of my head.  The dress looks awesome, and the shoes are the best.  Angel doesn't know what he's getting into.

            "Okay, Wills, I'm ready."

            She emerges from behind the screen, and I smile expectantly, then let it wilt when I see her.

            "Uh, Willow, what is that?"

            "It's my costume," she says.  "You like?  It's pretty retro."

            She's dressed head to toe in a man's suit.  Complete with fedora and drawn on mustache.

            "Willow," I admonish her, "You were supposed to be sexy!  Xander is not gonna look at you in that and go 'wow, that's a really hot guy!'."

            "I-I know, Buffy, I just, I couldn't do it," she rushes, holding the outfit I had given her.  "It's too much.  And when even I blush looking at myself, we know it's not a good time for Willow.  I can't wear this.  I'm sorry," she finishes miserably, and I shake my head, my hair bouncing around my cheeks, hitting me and feeling really weird.

            "But you!  Wow, turn around, and let me see."

            I dimple, and comply.  "Don't you like?"

            She grins, and whistles.  "Angel's gonna freak.  Wow.  Where did you find that?  And why?"

            I shrug, pointing my foot out from under the dress, to show her the slippers.

            "My dream, well, me and Angel's dream actually.  I thought it was a great idea.  I have princesses on the brain, so might as well dress the part.  It actually belongs to a lady who works with mom," I say, and turn back to the mirror, checking my earrings, and fluffing my hair for the umpteenth time.

            "You really think he'll like it?" I ask shyly, and Willow bursts into peals of laughter.

            "Trust me, Buffy, oh yeah, he will."

            At that moment the doorbell rings, and since it isn't quite dark, I know it's Xander.  "Quick, Willow, get behind that screen and change," I tell her, handing her back the sexy outfit I had picked out for her.  "Quick,now while I let Xander in."

            "But, Buffy, I can't-"  she starts, and I shove her behind the bamboo screen.

            "No buts, Wills.  I'll be right back."

            Xander stands at the door and stares.  "Buffy.  Duchess of Buffonia.  I am in awe.  May I bow to the gorgeousness that is you?"  He executes a horrible bow, and I laugh as he kisses my hand.  "You may, sir.  Now come in, and what are you supposed to be anyway?"

            Xander hefts the plastic machine gun in his hand, and pulls on the chain around his neck, revealing dog tags attached to it.

            "Sargeant Harris, at your service, Ma'am," he says, "the cheapest, easiest costume I could dig out of storage in the attic.  Where's Willow?"

            "I'm here!"  she says, and I turn excitedly, ready to gauge Xander's reaction to her costume.

            "Wow, Willow, um…that's a great Groucho outfit.  Very…retro."

            I scowl up at her, crossing my arms.  "Uh, huh.  Nice, Wills."

            She smiles meekly at me, and continues down the stairs.

            "So," Xander says, clapping his hands together, "Where's your creature of the night boyfriend?"

            I swat his arm, apparently a little too hard, because he gasps and yanks his elbow out of my way.  I frown at him as well.

            "He'll meet us at the Bronze shortly.  You guys ready?"

            "As we'll ever be," he answers, still rubbing his arm.  I swish out the door, head held in what I assume is a princess-like manner.  It actually kinda makes my neck kink.

            The Bronze is packed, full to the gills with screaming, dancing, laughing, and sweating bodies.  Almost everyone is in costume, and I manage to snag a few seats on the edge of one of the couches in the corner by the coffee stand.  Xander and Willow plop down next to me, and Willow pulls on my arm.

            "This band is really good!  I think they go to our school," she shouts, and I nod.  "They have a funky name, right?  Something about Coyotes swallowed my doll?"

            She laughs, and answers, "Close.  Dingoes ate my baby.  Isn't that funny?"

            I nod, because I'm sure she can't hear me over the music.

            The guys are really rocking, and I do recognize the guitar player and the singer.  Devon, I think and…Ox?  Cow?  Oh, wait.  Oz.  He's in my History class.

            I lean over to tell Willow I do know some of them, and our foreheads crack together, as she had been leaning in to tell me something at the same time.

            "Ooh!" she moans, and I suck in a breath, agreeing.  "Sorry.  What were you gonna say?" I ask, my hand rubbing my brow.

            "I just saw Angel," she says, just as a tingly feeling abruptly flip flops my stomach.  I look about, and sure enough, there he is, standing by the coffee bar, looking around.  I hope for us.

            I raise my hand to wave it at him, and he meets my eyes the second I do so.

            "Whoa," I whisper, and Willow echoes me with her own "Wha?"

            Does the guy clean up good, or what?

            Crimson silk shirt, black pants, _oh my god are they leather?_, and shining black boots complete the look.  He walks over to us, and I see he has a black handkerchief tied in a knot at the back of his hair as well.  

            "Oh, my God, Angel, are you a pirate?" I ask, my hand covering my mouth, trying to hide my huge grin.  Or perhaps to wipe off some of the drool I know is there.

            He sits next to me, and shrugs.  "I had all this at home.  Easy to do," he finishes, his mouth quirking sideways in a smile.  He looks at me, and his mouth drops open, and his eyes do the once over on me and my kick outfit.

            "I- Buffy.  Wow.  Stand up," he commands, and I do.  I twirl for him, and drop into a nice curtsey at the end, for which I will thank mom forever for teaching me how to do for the look which appears on his face after I've done it.

            "You look absolutely beautiful," he says softly, as I sit back down next to him.  I beam, and dig a hand into Willow's arm as she pokes me in the ribs.

            "Thank you.  It's nothing, just something I dug up," I say, trying to sound bashful.  Not succeeding.  I love this costume.  Thank you, whoever sent me those dreams.  Speaking of which…

            "Have you heard anything from Giles?" Angel asks, and I nod.  "Just earlier tonight, actually.  But it's not much to go on.  He says that the Watcher's council are looking into all references to shared dreams involving any slayers.  And that it might 'be a while' according to him.  So we are free to play tonight."

            "Thank goodness, I was beginning to wonder if we were actually gonna do anything except sit here and talk about Buffy's outfit," Xander snipes, and I shoot a look his way.  Willow pinches him on  the arm I didn't hit, and she stands, pulling him with her.  "We're gonna get coffees?  What do you guys want?"  She asks.

            "Oh, just a mocha for me, thanks.  Angel?"  I look at him, and he answer Willow, but he's looking only at me. 

            "Nothing, thanks, I'm not thirsty," he says quietly, and she chirps quickly, "Okay, we'll be right back."

            "Take your time, no hurry," I yell after them, and turn back to him as he takes my hand in his. 

            "You make me forget there's anything in the world that I could want besides you," he whispers, and I melt right there into a puddle of limp princess wanna-be.

            "I thought I was a drug that you can't get off of," I say back, and tremble as his hand moves from my hand to my cheek.

            "I don't want to be free of you," he tells me, and I smile, thanking whoever that that had been his answer.  What did I do to deserve him?  Wait, I don't care, just let him stay here.

            He scoots over next to me, and I lean into him, running my hand up his broad chest.  He grabs my fingers, and brings them to his lips, placing the tiniest of kisses there.  Gooseflesh breaks out on my arms, and he looks at me askance. 

            "Buffy, are you cold?" he asks, and pulls me closer into his arms.

            "N-no.  Never with you," I say, and his grin lights up the dank corner we currently occupy.

            Our eyes meet again, and I'm lost suddenly in the reflection there.  I see me, but I see him, too.  And I see hundreds of stars, and and the moon, and dark, beautiful fields, covered in lush grass.  And I see love there as well.  

            "Angel," I whisper, saying his name like the blessing it is.

            He kisses me then, and the noise and the shouting and the damp feeling in the room shrink to nothingness, and all I can feel is him.

            He plies me with gentle pressure at first, and I kiss him back, slowly, tentatively.  He slants his head, deepening the contact, and my heart speeds up, and I practically climb into his lap.  I can't seem to get close enough to him.

            His arms wrap around my back, and I wind mine around his neck, resting one hand on the nape.  He nips at my lower lip, and I sigh, opening my mouth on instinct.

            His tounge slides in, and touches mine ever so slowly.  

            I'm burning up; I'm as cold as ice; I'm soaked in sweat; and I'm dying with need.  The desire to have him closer, deeper, inside me, inside my skin, devouring me, is so intense that I have to break away from him, resting my head on his shoulder, panting harshly.

            "You okay?" he asks, and I laugh shakily.

            "I'm great.  You?" 

            He smiles then, and cups the back of my neck with his palm.

            "You have no idea."

            Many hours and many mochas later, Angel walks me toward my home, our hands joined, swinging lightly between us.

            "Did you have fun?" he asks, squeezing my palm.

            I nod.  "Oh, yes.  Thanks to whatever vamp or demon decided that Halloween was too much of a cliché to cause any trauma.  It was great."

            "I'm glad.  You need a night off.  I know you've been stressed lately," he says, and we stop walking at the edge of Sunnydale City Park.  I drop his hand, and head for the swings.

            I sit, fluffing the skirt of my dress around me.  He stands in back of me, his hands on my shoulders, pushing me slightly.  I lean my head back and rest it on his stomach.

            "I'm okay, Angel.  Schools' not that big a deal; thanks to Willow I'm sort of passing almost everything.  And the dreams thing…well, it's been a week, and I haven't had another one.  Have you?"

            I can feel him frown.  "No, I haven't.  Which makes me kind of worried, to be honest."

            "Why?  Maybe it was just a false alarm.  The council will tell us if they think it's anything of great importance," I say, not wanting to break my happy mood.

            "But, Buffy, didn't you say it had the same feel as your dreams about the Master?  I think that's pretty important-"

            I stand abruptly, pulling away from him.  "I don't really want to worry about it right now, Angel.  I don't get many breaks from my night job; I'd like to give it a rest just this once, okay?" I wrap my arms around myself, walking toward the merry go round and away from his worried gaze.

            "Buffy, I know you don't get a break.  But I don't want to be caught unawares, either.  I don't want anything to happen to you, especially something we could have been prepared for," he says, following me.

            "Angel, nothing is gonna happen.  Can we just drop it?" I snap, and sink down onto the merry-go-round, my eyes dropped to the dirt beneath my 'glass' slippers.  They seem kind of silly, now.

            This whole thing is silly.  Who am I kidding?  I'm no princess.  I'm the 'one girl in all the world who has the strength and skill to stand against them.'  And I don't get vacations.

            He kneels in the dirt before me, and puts his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look up.

            "You are important to me.  I want to do everything in my power to protect you.  I'd do anything to make sure you're safe always.  That may mean examining things that are unpleasant, Buffy.  I know how hard the whole thing with the Master was for you," he continues, and an unvoluntary shiver comes over me at the mention of that nasty, juice mouthed creep.  "but if you're having dreams that are even remotely similar, it's worth it to check it out.  It's worth it to me.  I'm not discounting you or your wishes.  Please, do this for me, okay?  Just take it seriously."

            I sigh, and he drops his hand from under my chin, and takes me in his arms, kissing the top of my head gently.

            "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.  Do you think I could stand that?" he says so softly I don't know if I would have heard him had he not been right next to me.

            I squeeze him tightly, full of feeling and tenderness.  I'm kind of afraid of where this is going.  I've never felt anything remotely like this about any one, ever.  I don't know what to do.

            "Angel," I start, and he looks down at me.

            "Hmmm?" he says, and as I open my mouth, a great clap of thunder breaks the nighttime silence.

            "Whoa.  Didn't think the night was calling for rain," I shout over the noise, and jump to my feet.

            It cracks again, this time followed by the most extreme lightening I've ever seen.  

            "Uh, Angel, I think we better head for cover," I say, and bam, like Murphy's law, the clouds open up and the rain starts to fall.

            He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we run.

            I fling open the door to my house, and we burst in, gasping for breath from our dash to relative safety.  I know he's got to be tired out since he's actually breathing as well.

            "Whew, that wasn't so bad," I say, and look at him.

            My eyes pop.  

            And what scares me is that he's looking at me with the same horrified expression that I'm sure I'm turning on him.

            "Oh, my God, Buffy," he croaks, and reaches a shaking hand to my face.  

            I turn frantically to the mirror in the hall, and gasp aloud.

            Even though he's not in the reflection, I sure am.

            Let's just say that comparing myself to Carrie at her prom is an understatement.

            I whirl to face him.  "Angel- oh my…is this what I think it is?"

            He's thunderstruck, but not enough to not choke out an answer.

            "It's blood."

TBC.


	7. Chapter Seven

            Chapter Seven.

            Angel's POV. 

            We stare at each other in the dark hallway.

            A soft _plip, plip _noise reaches my ears, and I realize it's the red rain dripping from Buffy's hair and hitting her tile floor.  I reach out, and touch the ends of her sodden mane.

            My hand comes away smeared with red; I bring the fingers to my nose, and instantly my demon is awake.  

            He comes roaring up from his cage and lusts after the blood on my hand through my eyes, now a glowing yellow.

            I taste it; and break quickly for the kitchen and the sink there.

            "Angel?  Where are you going?" I hear her ask, but my only thoughts are to get the blood off me now.

            I frantically shed my bandana and shirt in one movement, and toe my boots off.  I hit the edge of the sink with my hand, and leave a smear of crimson on the white wood surrounding it.

            I turn the water on as hot as it will go, and plunge my hands into it.

            Splashing my face and chest frantically, I begin to feel light headed, and recognize I am hyperventilating.  Weird for someone who doesn't need to breathe in order to live.

            "Angel!" Buffy practically shouts in my ear, and I turn to face her, eyes feral and blood running from my hair down my face.

            Ah, there he is.  Hello, alter ego.

            "Angel," she whispers, and backs away from me unconsciously.

            "Buffy," I say, "I'm s-sorry, I had to get it off.  It's human."

            "Oh my god," she says, and raises a hand to her lips.  She looks down at herself at that moment, and kicks her own shoes off, and yanks her once pretty dress over her head.

            She throws it in the corner, where it makes a wet plop next to my pile of clothing.

            "Shower," she says, and I nod.  "Good idea."

            I follow her up the stairs, and she directs me to the bathroom in the hall, and says, "Use this one.  There's clean towels under the sink."

            I nod again wordlessly, _say something idiot she's in shock, _and as she walks zombie like toward her mother'r room, I grab her arm.

            "Buffy, we need to call Giles.  Now."

            She pulls her arm out of my grasp, and it slides easily due to a slimy coating of red.  Blood gets sticky fast.

            "Got to get this off first.  Then call," she says through suddenly chattering teeth.

            I drop my head, horrified and confused.

            And incredibly aroused.

Yeah, she's covered in mystical blood.  But she's half naked and covered in mystical blood.

            He's in there; grinning like an idiot and whispering ideas in my head.  

            She's so beautiful.  And it destroys me that I can think so with her body coated in gore.  Her hair hangs limply about her face; her white cotton bra and panties are pink now; and her strong, shapely legs are a mass of sticky dots.

            I shudder, and back away.

            "Buffy, you better get cleaned up."

            She continues to chatter, but agrees.

            As soon as the door to her mother's room shuts, I slam the smaller bathroom's door, and sit precariously on the edge of the the tub, turning on the hot water.

            Steam fills the air, and I stand, shedding my leather pants, and wrap them in an old towel I find in the linen closet.

            I jump into the shower, and let the hot water hit me full force, closing my eyes.

            What in God's name just happened?

            Her dream.  Our dream.  

            Blood raining from the sky.

            The only things missing were the portal and the castle.  

            But it was dark, and the portal could have been there; maybe we just didn't see it through the clouds and lightning.

            I think of the movie Psycho as I watch the blood run off my body into the tub's drain, and don't know what to do.

            I knock tentatively on her mother's door, and am rewarded with a soft "Come in."

            I do so, and she's standing at the mirror, wrapped in a terry cloth robe with stars on the back.  Sometimes I forget how young she is; it's times like this that won't let me.

            "You okay?" I ask her, and she turns to me, and gasps slightly.  If I could blush, I would.  

            "Uh, Angel, let me see if I can find some of my dad's old sweats laying around.  I'm sorry.I completely forgot to offer," she ducks her head and quickly walks to her mom's closet, as I stand, slightly ashamed to have on only a towel around my waist.

            I did not want to put those leather pants back on.

            "Here you go," she says, not looking at me as she hands me a worn pair of black pants and a soft gray tshirt.  "Sorry, that's all I could find."

            "It's no problem, Buffy, thanks," I say, and wait for her to turn around so I change.

            She blushes, and turns around.

            I shed the towel quickly and pull on the sweat pants and tee; they smell vaguely like moth balls and Tide.

            "Thanks," I say again.  She faces me again, and tears dance in her eyes.

            I groan, and go to her.

            She sobs against my chest, and I lay my cheek on her head, whispering, "It's okay," over and over.  

            The problem is, I don't know if it's gonna be.

            "Buffy, love, we need to call Giles," I say finally, and she nods, not looking up at me.  "Okay," comes the muffled answer.

            I find the phone, a strange pink princess number that I'm truly surprised Joyce would have in her room.  To each their own, I guess.

            "I have to change," Buffy says, and I nod over the ringing on the line.  As she enters her own room, Giles answers the phone.

            "Buffy?" he says, and I know he knows what's happened.

            "Giles, It's Angel.  I'm with Buffy; she's okay," I tell him, and he sighs audibly with relief.

            "Where are you?" he asks, and I tell him.

            "You should come to the library as soon as possible; I'm on my way there now," he says, and I nod even though he can't see me.

            "What about." I can't finish my thought.

            "It's stopped," he says, and I slump against the bedpost, thanking the powers for small favors.  I wouldn't want her to have to go out in the deluge again, and I don't know if I could make it through it again either.

            My demon laughs mirthlessly, and I mentally backhand him, sending him grinning through a mask of bloody teeth back to his hole in my mind.

            "We'll be there.  She's getting into new clothes right now."

            "Good.  And Angel?" he says, which I hear right before I put down the phone.

            "Yes?" I say, bringing the receiver back up to my ear.

            "Hurry."

            Buffy doesn't say a word on the walk to the school.  

            I took care of our blood soaked clothes while she had been changing; they were now spinning in a cold rinse cycle in the washing machine in her home, all traces of gore wiped out by the industrial strength detergent I had found in the utility room.

            Except for the leather pants.  Those I pitched into the trash.  Blood doesn't really ever come out of leather.  I've been through several pair in the last 100 years.

            We open the doors to the library, and meet the three pairs of eyes already gathered there.

            Willow rushes out of her chair, and envelopes Buffy in a huge hug, and I'm grateful for the presence of the little red head.  Buffy hugs her back, but stiffly, and I frown.  

            She's got be in tip top slayer shape in order for us to figure out what's going on.

            "Buffy, Angel," says Giles, and we approach the table, taking the two end seats.

            I grasp her hand under the table, and try to give it a reassuring squeeze.  She doesn't squeeze back.

            "Giles- what's the sitch?  Any ideas?  Any portends?  Any clues?  Anything?" she says in a toneless voice.

            "I've had Willow on the net, Buffy, and she's found something quite interesting," he says, and we swivel our heads to face Willow.  She grins, but hollowly, and speaks.

            "Well, I started my search with the interesting rain we just had, and any other occurances like it in Sunnydale history.  So far I've only been able to find one other occurrence like it."

            We stare at her expectantly.

            ".And?"  Buffy asks finally.

            "Back at the turn of the century, when that old hotel got buried in the last huge quake we had.  The one the Master was living in?  This type of rain preceded that quake."

            Buffy blanches, and I grab her hand again, not caring this time what her reaction will be.  I am happy this time that she grabs back.

            "There's something else," Willow adds, and I cringe inwardly, not wanting to hear this.

            "What is it Wills, a giant castle suddenly appeared out of thin air?  Toads fell from the sky?  Great portals opened up everywhere?"  Buffy asks, trying to hide her fear.

            "Well, it's funny you should mention portals." Willow starts, and Buffy shakes her head.

            "That is so not the answer I wanted to hear."

TBC. 


	8. Chapter Eight

                Chapter Eight.

                Angel.

                Buffy leans against the wall of the school, one leg proped on the brick behind her.  I watch her as she sighs, and continues to look up at the night sky even as I approach her.

                I stand in front of her, and put my hands against the wall on either side of her head.  She still won't meet my gaze, so I stare at her until she's forced to or look ridiculous for not looking at me.

                "What?" she says, and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

                "Angel, don't give me that look-" she starts, but I bend down and cover her mouth with my own before she can get any more words out.

                I push her against the wall and she grunts in surprise, raising her arms as if she had a question.  I slant my head, and she tilts hers the other way, getting as close to me as she can without us blending together.

                Her arms go around my neck and one hand grabs my hair at the nape, yanking on it.

                 A growl slips unbidden out of my throat, and she moans in response.

                I've never kissed her like this.  I just want…I need her to know that's she beautiful.  And desirable.  And that she's everything to me.

                After the news we just got, any moment of happiness we can steal is a well spent moment.

                Her mouth opens in a breathy sigh, and I plunge my tounge in.

                No slow romantic kiss, this one.

                She shudders as we devour each other, and I tremble along with her.  Gooseflesh raises on my arms, and she clutches me tighter, and I move my hands from her back to her waist.

                "Angel," she whispers into me, and I move my lips to the column of her throat, nipping and nuzzling there.

                She makes a funny gasping noise then, and wraps one leg around my thigh.

                She decides turnabout is fair play, and suckles my neck.

                Hard.

                Sparks swim in my eyes, and I rumble deep in my chest, planting one hand possessively on her hip and the other in her hair.

                "B-Buffy," I finally get out.  

                She gazes at me, eyes unfocused, hair mussed, lips wet and swollen.  God, I want her so badly.

                I press my lips to hers one last time, and she runs her hands up my chest, and ends up cupping my face.

                I shake my head, and realize her neck is covered in small bruises and my shirt is halfway unbuttoned.

                "What- what was that for?" she says softly, hazel eyes still fuzzy looking.

                "I thought you looked like you needed a reminder of some of the good things in life," I murmur, and she cracks a grin, looking a little more together.

                "You can remind me of that anytime," she says, and runs her hands back down my front, stopping at my waist.

                I drop a kiss on the top of her head, and step away finally.

                "I'm sorry, Buffy."

                She looks at me askance, and asks, "What for?"

                Now it's my turn to sigh and look away.  "The Master."

                She follows me, and catches my hand.  "Angel, it's not your fault some nut case wants to raise him again.  They're gonna have to do it from dust though, unless they wanna try and glue him back together."

                I smile slightly, then it drops.  "Buffy, they don't need the whole skeleton.  You heard Willow.  Only a little of the ash, and a spell, some other mystical ingrediant we don't know about, and oh, coincidentally a blood rain and presto!  Instant Master."

                She looks at me a moment, then bursts into peals of laughter.

                "What?  What did I say?" I ask, my feelings kind of hurt.  Why is she laughing at me?

                "Oh, Angel," she says, wiping tears from her eyes, "you've been hanging with me way too long.  You're starting to talk like me too.  Next thing I know you'll be saying things like 'rude much?' and wanting to borrow my Cosmo."

                I cock my eyebrow at her, and deadpan it.   "Oh, but my subsription just came in the mail yesterday."

                I'm rewarded with another great peal of laughter, and can't help but grin with her.

                She needs any little humor in her life she can get.  And I'm honored to be the one to give it to her.

                We're sitting on a bench in front of the school, Buffy trying to get up the energy to go back in and start with the major mojo research, as she would say.

                "I just don't get it.  What is it with the stupid vamps around here?  Why always with the Master?  Is he the only one?  And couldn't they have picked someone a little less, well, creeptacular?"

                I nod with her.  "He's very old, Buffy.  And very powerful.  I would guess someone wants to take advantage of that power, and hope that he would reward them with some of it for the privilege of resurrecting him.  Most vampires aren't that smart; they're just in it for the thrill of the kill and the bash and crash, as someone I used to know once said."

                She eyes me then.  "Who said that?"

                I shake my head.  "Nobody.  Nobody you'd like, anyway."

                She stands, ready to go back inside and help her friends and her watcher.  

                I stand as well, but begin to head in the opposite direction.

                "Angel, aren't you coming in?" she asks, and I face her, saying, "I want to check with some of the local riff raff.  See if they know anything or have heard any rumors."

                I raise my eyes to the sky, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.  Dawn's coming.  

                "Plus, I have to get home soon," I add, and she nods, realizing what time it's getting to be.

                She walks to me, and grasps my hands, looking down at my feet.  "I'll miss you."

                I smile a half smile, and take her in my arms.  

                "Whatever I did in order to have you, please let me keep on doing it," I whisper.

                "You're doing it now," she says, and looks up at me.

                "What?  Hugging you?"

                "Just being you.  Helping me.  Supporting me.  Reminding me that not everything on the Hellmouth is a big freak fest."

                I kiss her lightly, and say, "Happy to oblige."

                I wave as I walk off, and head toward the docks, and the oh so lovely low life hang outs there, and hopefully toward some information.

                I don't see the aluminum baseball bat being swung like Sosa hitting a homer toward my skull until it's too late.

TBC. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter nine.

Buffy.

                "Where is he, Willy?"

                I slam the greasy bartender down onto the countertop again, and he shrieks in pain.  

                "I told you, Slayer, I don't know!!"

                Uh huh.  And I'm a science nerd.

                "Well, I tell you what, Willy.  You find another answer to that question and I'll let you leave here without too many broken bones.  Okay?"

                Angel's been missing for 24 hours.  And that's about 24 hours longer than I'd like.  And I know the little squirrely man currently residing under my fist knows something.  If anyone in this town does.

                "Gah!  Okay, okay, sheesh, let me up!  You're putting bruises on my bruises."

                I lift my hand, and he stands up straight, gingerly feeling the knot on his forehead.

                "Dang, girly, why you gotta be so rough?"

                I just stare at him, eyebrow cocked and arms crossed in front of my chest.

                "You have got to be kidding me, right?"

                He lifts his hands in a placating gesture.  "Right, right.  Ha ha, listen to Willy, he's always joking.  Coke?"

                He tries to distract me from my current mission, and not very successfully may I add.

                "Willy.  Information.  Now."

                He sighs.  "Right.  I don't know where your honey is," he starts, and I step closer to the bar and tap my fingers on it's dirty top.

                "Wait, wait," he backpeddles, "however, I do know there's some nasty new vamps in town, stirring up trouble and asking questions."

                "What kind of questions, Willy?" I ask him through clenched teeth.

                "You know, questions!  About the Master, the one who died, you remember?"

                I try not to laugh, and succeed only partially.  "Yeah, and?"

                "And one of them was talking about another vampire they were looking for."

                "I'm getting a little bored here, Willy.  You know what happens when I get bored, right?"  I examine my nails and grin inwardly when I hear his audible gulp.

                "Let me finish, Slayer.  Geez!  The name I heard them mention was," and he pauses, looking around to see if anyone is listening, "Angelus."

                I walk purposefully out of the decrepit bar, and meet Xander outside.

                "What'd he say?  Anything useful?" he asks, and I keep walking, forcing him to run after me as he talks.

                "Yeah.  Some undead nasties are trying to raise the Master again.  And they need the blood of one of his 'family' to raise him.  Guess who the local family is?"

                "Um, Snyder?  Considering he's so, you know, ugly and rat faced?  They kind of look alike now that I think about it…" he muses, and slows.

                "Xander!  Let's go," I yell behind me, and he breaks into a trot to catch up.  "It's Angel, right?  Damn, of course it is.  Couldn't go one week or two without one of you getting in some kind of bruhaha," he says, and I shoot him a look that makes him shut his mouth.

                "I'm teasing, Buff.  Of course we'll help.  But, and correct me if I'm wrong here,  I thought Darla turned Angel.  How can he be part of the Master's family?"

                "She did turn him, Xand.  But the Master made her, and there you have it.  His blood passed to Angel through Darla.  Got it?"

                "Got it."

                We walk faster.

                The sky darkens as we reach the school, and the wind whips our hair around our heads. 

                "Looks like duck and cover time, Buffy.  Should we head inside?"  Xander shouts over the rising storm.

                "Wait a minute, Xand.  I wanna see what happens," I yell back, and he complies, both of us turning to face the North, and the huge black clouds building there.

                Lightning cracks through the sky, and the clouds roil ominously.  "Uh, Buffy, not like this isn't fun, but, well, it isn't fun.  We should go in," Xander screams near my ear, and I barely acknowledge him.  I'm too intent on the feel of moisture in the air and the weird swirly looking thing forming just to our right…

                "Buffy, do you see that-"

                "I see it, Xander.  Go inside.  Tell Willow to get with the book cracking.  Like now," I say, my eyes on the thing opening up in the sky.

                "Ten four, chief," he says, saluting.  And he's gone, the doors to the school slapping against their frames behind him.

                Damn.  Willow had said there would be portals.  I know I've never really seen one, but I think I am now.

                Things are being sucked into it, and my hair switches direction, blowing toward the black hole and pulling me with it.  I turn, and forceably grab for the doors to the main entrance, putting a lot of effort into it.

                I make it inside just before the rain starts.  And judging from the smell, it's the same lovely rain we had before.

                 The local vamp population won't have to go to McPlasma's tonight for their meals. 

                "Buffy!" Giles states as I enter the library, "You're alright?"

                "Right as rain…ew, scratch that.  Right as a dry sky.  Anything?"  I ask Willow, and she nods, her hair bobbing around her head.

                "I've found reference to a gang of vampires who have been traveling around the country, trying to 'gather power' by raising local Masters.  It seems they've been through a couple of towns, usually smaller than this one, and manage to find a few of the things they need, but never all of it.  So I guess, when they found out we had had a Master here, they came a running.  And plus, 'family' vamp, and easy access to witchcraft supplies, and bang, welcome to Sunnydale, home of the best evil ever."

                I stare at her.  "You found all that on the net?"

                She nods, and replies.  "Yeah, well, apparently these vamps aren't the smartest monkeys in the barrel.  They have their own website."

                I laugh.  "You're kidding, right?  What's it called, Bloodsuckers 'R' Us?"

                "The Immortal Three."

                I plop into a chair, and shake my head.  "Egocentric, all these demons.  Pathetic really.  Don't they know they're in Slayer land?"

                "I don't think they care, Buffy.  They've been criss-crossing the country for years trying to make this spell work, and they haven't succeeded so far.  I would believe they feel that since they have all the elements, they have no chance of failure," Giles interjects, and I look up at him.  

                "Giles, I don't care if they're the Immortal Ten.  Or the Fantastic Four.  They have Angel.  And I'm getting him back."

                "I understand, Buffy.  I just want you to understand how dangerous this group is.  Or how dangerous any committed group is.  Once they have all the elements of the spell in place, they won't hesitate to start it.  And once they have begun, I'm not sure how we can stop them, to be honest," he tells me, removing his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt, typical Giles 'I'm worried' gesture.

                "Well, get sure.  I'm not abandoning Angel to some horrible fate at the hands of some cheesy vamps who can't even come up with a good group name.  The Immortal Three?  Sounds like an eighties hair band," I mutter, and Giles clears his throat.  "What?"

                "Xander told us the weather outside had changed drastically on your walk from Willy's bar.  How drastic?" Giles asks.

                "Remember what you said about portals forming?  Well, they're not forming anymore," I say, and Giles and Willow look at each other, smiling in relief.

                "They're formed."

                Damn, I hate it when I make my friends look like that.

                "So, guys?  Info.  Where would these vampires be, and how fast can I kill them?"

TBC. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter ten.

Angel.

                I raise my head groggily, and stare at the blank brick wall in front of my face.  The smell of the ocean comes to me, and another smell, much more familiar, as well.

                Human blood.

                I try to move my arms, and the rattle of chains tells me that I'm trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving.  I try moving the rest of me as well; no go.  So I raise my head up further, and squint into the gloom, letting my natural night vision start to work again after being unconcious.

                The sound of boots on the stone floor reaches my ears, and I feel a hand touching my cheek before I see her.

                "Angelus.  Good, you're awake.  We can finally get started.  Brendan!  Let's get this thing underway," she calls back over her shoulder, and another vampire enters the cavernous room that I can just now make out.  His shockingly red hair stands up in gelled spikes all over his head, and his attempt at looking cool by wearing a soul patch is laughable.

                The woman, on the other hand, scares me just a bit.  She has that look in her eyes that zealots get; cold, empty, soulless.  Her brunette hair shines as the male vamp lights some large tapers that rest in sconces around the room.

                She grasps my chin in her hand, and looks me in the eyes.  I've never seen anyone that has naturally violet eyes before.  It's strange, but in a way mesmerizing.

                "So, you know who I am.  Should I know you?"  I ask and she grins. 

                "I should think so.  We're longtime compatriots of Spike and Drusilla's.  Surely they've mentioned us?"

                "Uh, no.  Not to me.  And the name's Angel, by the way."

                "Those idiots!" she spouts, obviously angered by the slight perpetrated upon her by Spike.  Not surprising.

                "They really never mentioned us?" she asks suspiciously.

                "Nope.  Sorry…um," I trail off.

                "Oh, yes.  I'm Gillian.  Brendan and Gillian.  From the old country," she says, smiling brightly, and inwardly I groan.  They think they have camraderie with me because we're all from Ireland.  Great.  Another nutcase vampire.  Time to set her straight.

                "So, what do you want with me?  I'd be a lot more helpful if you could let me out of these chains."

                She whirls back to face me, her demon showing, fangs dripping spittle.  "You aren't going anywhere!"  She screams, and I'm sure now this is not one to be taken lightly.  Crazy ones never are.

                "Now, Gill, lets calm down," says the redhead, approaching us at last.  "Remember the shaman told us we have to be calm in order for this thing to work."

                She pets his head like a dog's.

                "Sweet Brendan.  Let's do this."

                They walk to the corner of the room, where a small table sits, covered in silver cloth and pentacles.  In the center hangs an upside down cross.  A small jar also sits on the table, which the male now picks up and dips a paint brush into.

                "So, what are you guys doing?  Apocalypse, world in peril, raising a demon?" I ask them, hoping to distract them as I try and work on the cuffs holding my chains around my wrists.

                "Shut it, traitor," says Brendan, and glares at me as he begins to paint a pentagram on the floor.  With blood.  That must be where the smell was coming from.

                "Traitor?  Now, that's pretty harsh for someone who doesn't even know me," I quip, _God I'm picking up Buffy's speech habits, too, _and he kicks me in the leg as he passes by, still painting away.

                "Kills his own kind.  Hangs with the Slayer," he practically spits at me.  "Angelus, the scourge of Europe, reduced to an errand boy for the white hats.  Pathetic."

                "I **am** my kind," I say, and he growls at me.

                "Brendan, are you done?"  Gillian trills, and he answers her.  "Almost, love.  You can start the incense now."

                She lights some incense on the altar, and immediately the candles lit around the room flare to brilliant heights, then dim almost completely.  

                Gillian grins with demonic glee.  "It's working!"

                "Right," the male vamp says, and dusts his knees off, putting the paintbrush down on the altar.  "Your turn, _Angel," _ he mocks, and I tense as he approaches, jar of blood still held in his hands.

                "You can't hold me here forever.  You know how strong we are," I tell him, in a last ditch effort to sway him.

                "You won't be," he says, and throws the jar of blood in my face.

                It burns like acid.

                With a roar I leap at him, arms caught by the chains, blood and gore dripping off my face onto my chest.

                They laugh as they retreat, stopping at the altar.

                "Ready, dear?"

                "As you are, my love," the woman answers, and picks up a book as the man lifts another small jar from the table.  He approaches the center of the pentagram, gingerly stepping over the freshly painted lines.

                I fight to reach him, but my vision is suddenly blurry, and I realize I want for nothing at all but to sit down.  So I do.

                I shake my head, trying to clear it, and watch helplessly as the young vampire begins to shake a dusty substance onto the center of the magical pentagram, muttering what I assume to be an incantation.

                I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to get the blood out of them, and lift my arms off the floor,  but only succeed in raising them a few inches.  The room tilts, and I shut my eyes, feeling but not controlling my body as it topples over.

                "Get him, Gill, and bring him here," Brendan says, and I can only watch feebly as the woman lifts me, having unlocked the cuffs around my wrists and ankles.  She carries me to the middle of the room, and dumps me uncerimoniously into the middle of the circle.

                "Now, baby, now," she whispers, fangs shining and her face in a sweat, excitement pouring out of her in waves.

                I lie there, and watch as Brendan takes the book from her, and walks to me.  

                "Wo sind sie, Ihren Oberst?  Kommen sie Aus!  Kommen Sie Aus!  Blut fur Sie, Blut fur lieben!" he screeches, and I stare in shock as he whips out a long, beautiful dagger with crosses etched on the blade.  This isn't going to be pleasant.

                "Furher, lieben," he echoes, and slashes my right wrist with the blade.  I hiss, and try to pull my injured hand into my chest, but I still can't move a muscle.  My blood pumps in spurts onto the floor, and mixes with the ashes there.

                The room begins to tremble as the two vampires step away from the pentagram.  The candles flicker, grow brighter, and grow dim several times.

                The smell of incense grows strong, and I hear rain begin to patter on the roof of the building we're in.   Wind whips through the room suddenly, and I blink, eyes stinging with the blood and the smoke of the incense.

                "Well?" says Gillian.  "What's happening?"

                "Shhhhh," Brendan puts a finger to her lips.  "He's coming, I can feel it."

                They both crouch by the altar like children waiting for Santa Claus.

                The earth trembles again violently, and I am pitched backward as a crack appears in the floor, steam hissing from the rent in the earth.

                The rain intensifies outside, and the temperature rises, bathing us all in sweat.  The other two creep forward, clinging to each other as the room rocks back and forth with the violence of the quake.

                "WHO CALLS ME?"  a voice rips through the building, and the candles snuff out, one by one.

                "Your children call you, Master.  Rise up!  Rise up!  Your hour is at hand!  Rise!"

                The woman cackles through her fangs, and repeats the man.  "Rise up, Master!"

                "Rise, and take this blood sacrifice we have brought you, your undead evilness," Brendan states, and I grimmace as the heat intensifies.

                The light from the crack blasts through the room, and we all leap back, shielding our eyes.  Of course I can barely move, but I manage to raise my hand to block my face from the dazzling glow.

                "Angelus?" 

                I lower my hand, and gaze at a face I thought I would not see ever again.

                He still has fruit punch mouth.

TBC. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter eleven.

Buffy.

                We approach the decrepit old warehouse at the edge of the Pacific Ocean.  The sand and parking lot around the area is torn up, and judging from the quake that just passed through here, I'm sure the inside of the building is jacked up as well.

                The rain pounds the pavement, and drenches us all in red goop. 

"Uh, Buffy, is this what I think it is?"  Xander asks, and I give him a look.  "Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do and die," he sighs out, and shakes his head.  "Sorry.  Been watching the history channel too much."

                "Wills, you got everything ready?" I whisper, and she nods.  "Sage, eye of toad, witch hazel, efluvia of newt, and pine sol."

                "Pine sol?" Giles asks, his voice as quiet as possible.

                "To cover the stinkies this spell creates," Willow says.  "It's really rank."

                Giles blinks a few times, then duck walks over to me, as we crouch behind a large dune, obviously created by the earthquake.

                "You have everything, Buffy?  Xander and myself will be right there the moment you need back up."

                "I know, Giles, and I appreciate it.  But I need to do this on my own.  If they've raised old prune face again, I need to take him out.  Me.  By my lonesome.  You understand?  Considering I smashed the guy to smithereens the last time, you'd think he'd stay buried," I tell him, and he frowns, but he gets it.  He's Giles.  He's been my watcher for almost a year and a half now.   So he knows me, and he knows when I make my mind up, I'm not gonna change it.  So he and Xander stand behind me at the door of the old warehouse, weapons at the ready, should I need them.

                God bless Willow and her net skills.  Finding this place hadn't been hard; what had been hard was figuring out what spell to use to dispell the body of the master once and for all. 

                Thanks to Giles' coven friends in England, we are armed to the teeth with weapons and knowledge and ready to get rid of him once and for all.

                I really really hope that Angel's still okay.

                I can't think about him right now.  I have to go in, destroy the bad guys, and save the damsel in distress.  Or, the dam…knight…vampire…whatever, in distress.

                "Okay, Will, be ready for the signal," I tell her, and she nods, already deep into chanting and waving her incense around.  I know she's a little new at this witchy stuff, but I have faith in her.  She can do it.  Besides, she seems to have a natural affinity for it.  Even Giles says so.

                I tense, the gory rain running down my face and into my hands, making the wooden handle of my specially made broadsword slick.  I twist it in my hands, changing my grip, and bite my lip. 

                "Here we go," I mutter, and give Giles and Xander the thumbs up.

                I squeak open the door, and pop my head in.

                Bigggggg empty hallway.  But my stomach does that tingly flip flop thing, and I know Angel's nearby. 

                I let the door shut behind me, and I hear Willow's voice raise slightly as the last of the night air blows in with it.

                I ready the sword, and hold it in front of me.  I tiptoe down the hall, checking every few seconds behind me, but my spider sense doesn't go off, so I figure the vamps are in the cavernous room that I assume is beyond the door directly in front of me. 

                Why do they always pick an empty old nasty warehouse?  Go on, live the cliché,  guys.

                The floor gives a little jerk, and I try not to fall to one side as I readjust my balance.  "Stupid aftershocks," I tell myself, and wipe a hand across my eyes, trying to move the bloody gook away from them.  If this finishes the way I hope it will, I'm taking the world's longest shower.  Water bill be damned.

                The door to the large room has canted sideways, and I can see in, without being seen, hopefully.

                I really don't want to see in, though.

                Angel's shirtless, his neck being held in the grips of a really old, really ugly vampire clad in black leather and big clunky boots that are so last season.  Damn.  I was really hoping it wasn't him.

                Two identical piles of dust lay at their feet, and I silently thank the Master's short temper for making quick work of the two stupid vampires that must have raised him.

                "So, you just can't stay dead, can you?  I told you before, when I send you to hell, you should stay there."

                They both turn, Angel not being able to move too easily, and I gasp inwardly at the sight of the huge cut on his wrist and the blood running down his face.  He smiles through his red mask, and I light up inside.  I knew there was another reason to be glad I'm the Slayer. 

                "SLAYER!" The Master roars, and grins a creepy smile of his own.  "You know you can't keep a bad guy down."

                He squeezes Angel's neck tighter, and throws him hard against the brick wall.  As he hits it, I hear his head crack against the mortar, and I begin to run to him.

                The Master steps in between us.

                "Oh, how sweet.  And yet how sad.  A vampire, a former powerful, masterful vampire, in love with a Slayer.  How inappropriate.  It's too bad I'll have to take you out this time, girl.  I guess I'll have to do something better than just drowning you," he hisses at me, drawing his hands up into claws, and waving them at me.

                I can't help it; I shudder at the memory of that night, and my headfirst plunge into the cold dank water that he had thrown me into after drinking from me.  Slayer's blood is powerful stuff, and I can't let him anywhere near me, especially because Angel seems to be out of commission for the moment.

                "I am so not wasting a quip on you," I tell him, and then launch myself at him.

                He bats my sword aside as I whirl it toward his head in a classic fencing move Giles had tought me only the week before.  He hits at me with his hand, and I feel a ripping sensation in my shoulder as the claws go through me.  I drop into a crouch, and sweep my leg out in an attempt to knock him over, and he leaps over it like it's a jump rope.  Hmmm.  Not good.

                "Willow!! Hurry it up!" I yell, and I hear vaguely, "Hurrying!"

                I sommersault, and leap up as high as possible, trying to hit him in the back.  My sword slices home, snicking into his back.  He screams, and tries to reach the wound with his hands.  I pull the sword out, and run for the wall.

                Pushing myself off, I leap over him, and land in front of him just as I hear Angel begin to get to his feet.

                The Master cackles, and head-butts me, his face a blur as it comes toward mine.  A resounding crack echoes through the room, and at first I think it's our foreheads meeting.  Then I realize the smell of incense and a rank stink is invading the room.

                "Damn, good thing she brought the Pine Sol," I say, and raise my sword as the Master is momentarily distracted.

                "What?  No! Not again!  I won't be sent back!" he yells.

                "Oh, I very much beg to differ," I say scathingly, and flip the sword over, exposing the pointy end.  The wooden pointy end.

                I leap toward him, and he raises his arms upward, as if to catch me as I fall into him.  As I am almost upon him, he ducks underneath me, and I sail over him, flailing my arms behind me to try and hit him.  No dice.

                He's behind me; his hands around my throat.  Boy, I so did not want to be in this position again.

                I start to hyperventilate, and memories wash over me.  His presence is like a wolf; powerful, scary, and kindy smelly.  But I can't draw away.  The sword drops out of my hands, and clatters to the floor.

                "Now, lets finish what we started last year," he says in my ear, and his cold breath makes me shiver.  He crushes his hand around my neck, and I try to croak out for Angel, for Giles, for anyone. 

                His fangs decend toward my jugular, and I squinch my eyes shut, paralized with fear, unable to to anything except whimper.

                An audible pop echoes through the room, and the Master squeals in rage.

                "No!  You can't do this to me!  I won't let it happen again!" 

                My vision wavers for a moment, and the light issuing from the large crack in the floor glows white hot, and I am able to throw up my arms to shield my face from the heat.

                "Don't.  Touch.  Her.  Again," comes the growly voice, and the hands around my neck are gone.  I am instantly in action, dropping to my knees and grabbing my abandoned sword.  I pivot around quickly, and leap to my feet as I see Xander and Giles run into the room, weapons at the ready. 

                "Buffy!  Are you alright!" Giles shouts, and I smile at him. 

                "Never better, boss."

                "Willow's almost done, Buffy, you ready?"  Xander yells across the room, and I nod.

                "Okay, Will, hit it!"  he bellows, and a few seconds later, the temperature in the dank room raises to about a billion, and the candles on the wall flicker back and forth, smoke issuing from the fissure at my feet.

                The horrendous smell hits me, and I gag as I try to make my way to where Angel and wrinkly boy are grappling.  I slide on the stone floor, and fall to one knee as I reach them.

                Angel is repeatedly punching him, and the Master is stabbing Angel's chest and arms with his long talons.

                I jump between them, and repeat, "Don't. touch. Him. Again."  And thrust my sword through the Master's belly.  He gasps, and falls to his own knees, clutching his stomach as he tries to hold in his intestines, which threaten to spill out.  Gross-a-rama.

                I check Angel, who seems to be fine, if a bit bloody and groggy, and turn back to the Master.  I put my boot on his shoulder, and push him over onto his back.

                He's mewling in pain now, and I stand over him, breathing hard and dripping blood on him from my hair.  I place the wooden tip of my sword over his heart.

                "Look, juice face, next time someone offers to raise you from the dead, do yourself a favor and stay gone.  Especially in my town…"

                I lower myself to my haunches, and meet his eyes, holding him in place with my left hand as my right holds my stake/sword.

                A screaming wind fills the room, and I make sure he's watching as I slowly insert the stake into his heart.  The words of Willow's spell reach my ears, and as he dusts, the particles begin to swirl upward, forming a whirlwind that resembles a funnel cloud.

                A burst of lightning cracks through the ceiling, and one of those vortexes Xander and I had seen, and like the one Angel and I had seen in our dream, forms above our heads.  The dust cloud that was the Master swirls toward it, and I swear I hear screaming as it disappears into the black hole.

                The churning mass snaps shut, and all is silence.

                "That had **better**be the last time I see him," I say, and burst into tears.

                Angel stumbles to me as Willow comes running into the room, crying, "Did it work?  Did we do it?"

                "Yeah, Wills, we did," I tell her as she comes to a stop in front of me.  Wetness tracks down her face as we embrace. 

                Angel stands behind us, his hand on my shoulder, trembling from the sheer effort of standing up.  Some kind of mojo had been done on him, too.

                Willow lets me go, and goes to Xander and Giles, who are sitting on the floor of the warehouse, exhausted, although mostly from the stress of the event.

                I turn to Angel, and touch his wrist gently, where the large gash is already healing.  "You okay?" I ask him, voice shaking with emotion.

                "I am now," he says, and smiles that half smile at me.  He takes my hand away from his wound and places it on his torn and blood covered cheek.

                "I am now."

TBC.


	12. Chapter Twelve

                Chapter twelve.

                Angel.

                A few days later, and we're still recouping.  Giles has been on the phone constantly to London and the Watcher's Council.  No other news has surfaced about the why's and wherefore's of the vamp couple I had encountered.  Their names had come up a few times in the diary's, but they had mostly been described as 'non-entities' or 'mostly harmless'.   Which I understand upon first meeting; however, I have learned over the years to never disregard the crazy ones.  Turn your back on them for a second and you have apocalypse central.  Witness Drusilla.  

                 Here's hoping that Buffy won't have to deal with her or Spike again.

                The night after the chaos, Buffy had knocked softly on my apartment door.

                "Come in," I shouted, and winced, my throat still bothering me from all the incense and ash I had inhaled.

                "Hey," she said, and entered the living room, closing the door behind her.  The moon shown brightly that night, but all I saw was her.  It was a surprising pleasure to see that she was wearing the old leather jacket I had given her last year.  I hadn't known she had kept it.

                "How are you?" she asked, and lifted my wrist in her hand, examing the almost totally healed cut there.  "Looks lots better."

                "It is.  Nothing happened to me that won't heal.  How are you doing?" I had tilted her chin up with my fingers, and instantly became angry at the still evident bruises there from the Master's talons.  She shrugged.

                "Nothing that won't heal," she replied, and walked away, retreiving a paper bag that I hadn't noticed she had brought in with her.

                "I brought you some things," she said, digging in the bag.  "Sage, comfrey, lavender.  And some kind of stinky gooey junk Willow said was good for healing cuts and bruises.  Arnie?  Something like that?"

                I laughed gently and took the bottle out of her hands.  "Arnica.  Works really well, actually.  It's made from a plant…Buffy, what is it?"

                She had turned away from me then, and I had noticed her shoulders shaking.  I put down the bottle and went to her, pulling her against my chest as she sobbed.  She buried her face in my chest and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing hard.  I think I might have felt a rib or two crack, but I hadn't cared.  She was in pain, and I would do whatever I could to ease it.

                "What is it?  Buffy, are you hurt?"

                She shook her head against me, and then hesitated.  "No…and yes," she had muttered, and I turned her face to mine.

                "You had to face him again."

                She only nodded.

                "But you beat him, Buffy.  You beat him hands down.  And he won't be coming back from wherever he is anytime soon, trust me.  That spell of Willow's was quite powerful.  I'm impressed she pulled it off."

                "That's the same thing Giles said.  But Angel, that's what I thought last time.  And with the dreams we had…not everything we saw manifested, you know?  Like, what happens tomorrow?  I wake up and a castle's in my front yard?  The next time I see you you're a pile of ash inside a tin suit?  I don't want to deal with this anymore," she spouted, and I shushed her, kissing her forehead.

                "I won't let anything happen.  To you or to me.  I promise," I whispered,  my eyes boring into hers.  "Not like you really needed my help anyway, Buffy.  You rescued me, remember?"

                She had smiled then, and I grinned back at her.  "Don't you forget it, buddy.  And hey, don't I get some kind of reward?  Like a plaque, or a medal, or a pony-"

                I had cut her off midsentence with my lips on hers.  I pressed her up against the front door, and kissed her with abandon.  She sighed against me, and had wound her fingers in my short hair.  I growled softly at her, and wrapped one hand around her hair and the other about her waist.

                She murmured my name, and that was all it took.  I slanted my head, deepening the kiss, and she complied eagerly, her lips opening, my tounge playing with hers.

                Her hands dropped to the front of my chest, and moved there of their own accord, molding my shirt to my body, as if trying to memorize it.

                I lifted her leg, and wrapped it around my waist.  She lifted the other herself, and I had carried her over to my bed before I realized what we were doing.

                "God, you feel," she started, and smiled shyly at me, eyes half closed and mouth swollen from our kisses.

                _Slow down she's so young._

"Whoa," I replied, and backed away.

                "What is it?  Angel, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.  She sat up and had begun to chew her lower lip.

                I knelt on the floor, my face almost even with hers.

                "I said it before, Buffy, and I meant it.  I'm not going anywhere.  We have all the time we want.  I want to savour it," I said, and touched her face lightly with my fingertips.  She had shuddered slightly, and closed her eyes.

                Did she know how beautiful she was to me?  Right then, the first moment I saw her, yesterday, tomorrow?

                "No worries tonight, okay?  This is about just you, and me.  Just us.  No Master, no vamps, no Giles, no nothing.  Me and you.  Together."

                She had opened her eyes, and touched one small fingertip to my lips, and had traced their shape.

                "Savouring."

                God, yes, please.

                I sit at the water's edge, in the spot we had met a few weeks before.  When I hadn't been so sure as to where I wanted to go with this, or with her.  

                After this past week, and the dreams we shared, I know one thing.

                I love her.  And god help us both, I thinks she cares for me too.

                What could I have done to be so lucky?  And what could she have done to deserve me?  What kind of happiness can I bring her?  She's the slayer.  A young woman just forming her life.  

                And I'm a 240 and change year old monster.  Who's caused his share of heartache already.  I would die if I hurt her.  And I really already have.  She could have died fighting the Master.  And yet she still came, to save me.  With no regard for her own safety. 

                What if?  What if things hadn't gone the way they had?  What if Willow had done the spell wrong?  What if Giles hadn't been able to get the information?

                And what if all this isn't really over?

                She had been right when she had been worried that not all of the parts of our shared dreams had manifested themselves.  I really don't want to wake up on the Irish coast tomorrow, and see her chained to a stone wall.  The blood rain and grumpy old Master vampire had been bad enough.

                Giles is still working on finding out what the rest of the dream had meant.  And if it had anything to do with the Master and what we had experienced.  Hopefully something will turn up soon; Willow's got the net search going too.

                It's been so long since I've been a part of any type of clan.  Of any type of family.

                My original family I had systematically taken down in the course of one blood filled, vengeful night.

                My surrogate family and I had cut a swath through Europe and Asia; until I killed the wrong girl.

                And now…is it happening again?  Am I to be accepted into this little group, and then destroy them too?

                I will go to hell first if the possibility of me hurting them is ever even a spark at the edge of my consciousness.

                "Hey, watcha doing?  Need a date?"

                I chuckle lightly, and answer, still gazing at the water.

                "Nah, I'm waiting for my girlfriend to show up.  Better move along, she can kick some serious ass."

                Buffy plops in the sand next to me, and slides her arm through mine.   "Damn straight she can."

                "How are you feeling?  Any news from the Watchers?"

                She bobs her head.  "Yeah.  Giles says something else might be brewing.  I've been sent to retrieve you for a war council meeting."

                Inwardly my worries of hurting her blossom, but I hide it well.  Almost a hundred years of being alone can teach you how to cover things easily.

                I sigh, and stand, pulling her along with me.  "Knights and castles?"

                She nods.  "Knights and castles."

                We begin the walk back toward the street, and the long trek to the school.

                "Oh!" she states.  "I almost forgot.  I have something for you."

                I stop and wait as she pulls a paper wrapped lump out of her bag.  She hands it to me.  "Open it."

                I smile and comply.

                Nestled inside the paper is a tiny stone gargoyle, like the ones on top of Notre Dame or the ones all over my home town of Galway.  It's a good likeness, and I'm speechless as memories of going to church, and to the ancient even for the 18th century ruins by the shore with my sister Kathy, rush over me in a wave.  I blink back sudden tears.

                "Oh, I knew it was ugly.  Here, lemme have it back," she sputters, clearly not understanding my reaction.

                 "No, Buffy, I love it.  It's perfect," I tell her, and she stills.

                "You know what these are for, right?"

                I nod.  "Protection of house and family."

                She beams, delighted I knew.  My mother had secreted a few about the house, not wanting my father to see them.  He was a devout Catholic and had no use for such 'pagan idolitry' in his house.

                "I figured you could use some help.  I may not always be able to come running to rescue you, you know," she says, and blushes, smiling a little.

                "Thank you," I tell her.  "It's perfect."

                She tucks a strand of gold hair behind her ear, and turns her head to the road, looking in the direction of the school.

                "Giles is probably having kittens right about now cause I said I would be right back with you.  We should go."

                I nod and follow her onto the concrete embankment that divides the beach club area from the street.

                As she leads the way, I think about the events of the past few weeks, and my relationship with this remarkable girl and her friends.

                And am truly surprised at how much they mean to me.

                I may not be a fairy tale knight, but I know for sure now that I'm not just a monster either.

~The end.

Author's note:  thanks to everybody for reviewing this piece.  I have really enjoyed writing it.  Please keep up the feedback; you guys have helped me so much in developing my writing skills.

Many thanks to my b/a buddy Kristi; I couldn't have finished this without your help.  *big hugs*


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